


we're in this war now- little leftover bits

by Kells



Series: The Varied Adventures of the Captain and Mrs. Cap [4]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Female Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 15:51:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 7,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1784665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kells/pseuds/Kells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>bits and pieces that didn't quite make it into the final version but which still entertain me and may perhaps entertain other people too!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. April 1945

**Author's Note:**

> about half of these are the fic equivalent of found footage in that I am salvaging them from earlier drafts of things; the rest is made up of little bits of backstory that inform other things but aren't really necessary for anything

_Howard’s infusion chamber opened to reveal James Barnes- the perfectly formed super-soldier, exactly as advertised, except that the agonizing strain of transformation had stopped his heart._

 Stephanie woke up in tears, and even though she knew she was being an infant about a stupid nightmare she let Bucky kiss her hair and promise her that he was fine, and she was too, until she fell asleep again.

The next evening, Dugan grabbed Steph by the elbow and narrowly prevented her from tripping over Morita at a crucial moment. They laughed it off afterwards, but she was keenly aware that Bucky wasn’t smiling.

 _Dr. Zola hacked at Bucky’s arm with Jack Miller’s carving knife, laughing like the Wicked Witch of the West as the vital light faded from the captain’s eyes._  

Steph didn’t want to wake her husband, who had difficult, dangerous things to do in the morning, so she stayed quiet but tangled their fingers together to remind herself, again, that he was still hanging on.

She stayed at her post with perfect diligence, watching Bucky through the cross-hairs of his own rifle and picking off three HYDRA flunkies before they got anywhere near her husband. Before she joined the others, Steph wiped her face carefully. She insisted when Bucky asked that it was just the wind up there making her eyes water. He didn't buy it, she could see, but he just hugged her briefly and whispered unnecessary thanks like he usually did.

_Instead of kicking the gun over the edge, Schmidt picked it up and shot Steph’s husband in the head._

Stephanie walked across the room and emptied both her pistols, just in case. Bucky watched her with bleary, worried eyes; she kissed his cheek and tucked herself back into his embrace without saying anything. 

The next day, she did pretty well at behaving like a real soldier until the cannons that had nearly widowed her made an appearance.

They heard the tell-tale whine at the same time- Bucky’s eyes met Steph’s, constant and comforting, but then he frowned and did the exact opposite of what would have made sense to her and ran _towards_ the cannons. 

_Bucky looked like he thought she was insane, but he’d always trusted her judgment before._

“Rogers! Get down!”

_He let go._

_The bar plummeted away into the depths._

The others quickly realized she wasn’t going to answer.

_Steph watched everything in the world that mattered to her hang in the balance for an endless heart-attack of a moment._

Bucky knocked the cannoneer out with a truly brutal blow of the shield, then raced to get to Stephanie before any number of HYDRA agents realized that one of his team was completely vulnerable in their midst.

 _Bucky’s hand closed around the beam. It was a lot smoother than the railings, and slick with melting ice._

Steph’s husband tackled her to the ground, throwing the shield up as he rolled to cover her. The bullet that would have pierced her neck hit the trees behind them.

_His terrified eyes were still locked on hers when she lost sight of him._

The follow-up was much more accurately angled, and grazed Bucky’s cheek. He cursed, but between the shield and the half-conscious girl in his arms he couldn’t exactly retaliate.

Jones shot one guy at point-blank range; Dernier’s explosives took care of two more. The blast seemed to jar Steph out of her near-fatal trance. She let Bucky urge her to her feet, watching his face with alarm.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Yeah, Steph.”

She tilted her head at him, disoriented and concerned.

“You’re not supposed to call me that out here.”

“Yeah, and you’re not supposed to stand like a statue when there’s guys trying to shoot you. You wanna tell me what the hell that was about?”

Stephanie hid her face against her husband’s chest with a sob. 

“‘m sorry.”

Bucky sighed, ran a frustrated hand through his own hair, and sighed again.

“Come on. We can’t just stand here, a chroí.”

When Steph didn’t move, her arms still around her husband’s neck, Bucky shook his head and picked her up as easily as if she had been a child. Agent Barnes protested quietly that she could manage on her own, but the Captain seemed to be done bargaining for the moment.

The rest of their team followed in bewildered silence.


	2. early 1944

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one where Howard actually makes them try on their outfits in person, and Bucky is not impressed, at all, with the costume Cap's sidekick wears in comic book canon. though I do think Howard may have hit on the only conceivable reason anyone would ever, ever, have approved that stupid suit.

“Stark, why is my wife wearing Peter Pan’s Uncle Sam costume?”

Steph laughed so hard it sounded like she was having a completely new kind of respiratory episode.

“There’s a sentence no one’s ever said before. Don’t you like it? It’s so bright! Look, my pistols match the shield!”

“But _why_ are you wearing red tights and …leather shorts? You look like a twelve-year-old boy, a ghrá.”

Howard answered lightly, but his voice had an edge to it that made Bucky’s hands clench.

“Because even Nazis don’t routinely interrogate twelve-year-old boys. They find this lad on an Alpine hill, the hope is they correct his grip and offer him a ride back to Oma. Wie gut ist dein Deutsch, mein kleiner Stefan?”

“Es reicht, Herr Stark. Long as they ask easy questions. Ja, nein, bitte, danke, wer ist dieser James Barnes? Amerikaner Scheißkopf.”

She smiled beatifically, and for a disorienting second even Bucky saw a choirboy from the Alps instead of the girl he’d adored since he was a kid. Howard grinned.

“Relax, ace. It may look like the children’s range but it’s still Stark tech.”

“It’s my team,” Captain Barnes said firmly.

“And my wife, so we’re playin’ by my rules. Make it over in black or she can stay here and be _your_ twelve-year-old assistant dressed like she fell in some Fourth’a July paint.”

“Aw, Cap,” Steph pouted. “You’re no fun.”

“No,” Bucky agreed. “Trust me, kid- you’ll live longer that way.”


	3. late 1943/early 1944

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> where Steph actually calls Peggy on her weird undercurrent of hostility towards Bucky for the first half of the thing just as they're seeing him off for the first time.

“Don’t worry, a chroí, we’ll try not to win the war before you get there.”

“Don’t do anything stupid, Bucky, I want my husband back.”

“Beloved,” he said formally, making many of his new teammates laugh in surprise, “I hear and obey.”

“That’ll be the day,” his wife snorted, but submitted to be kissed firmly on the lips before they separated. She waved, enthusiastic and very carefully not scared or stressed, until she could barely make out his dark head in the distance. When there was no point in pretending anymore, Steph let her arm drop and turned around- bringing her face to scowling face with Agent Carter.

“Peggy? What’s wrong?”

“Doesn’t he take anything seriously?”

Steph’s brow creased in confusion as she replayed the conversation in her head.

“Did you think he was kidding about any of that?”

It was hard to tell, Agent Carter sniffed, when a man insisted on acting like a know-nothing braggart just to win a laugh from men who weren’t even under his command yet. Steph blinked, not quite following.

“I don’t know why you’re so mad his people like him."  

“He’s a soldier now. He should stop acting like a ganglander looking to start a fight in the nearest alleyway.”

“Is it so different?”

Stephanie’s voice was light, but her eyes were colder than Peggy had ever seen them.

“He’s a docker, Agent Carter, not a runner for Big Bill. But he’s brave enough it makes him stupid sometimes- he wouldn’t even know how to back down because the other guy had better odds- he’s stubborn like you wouldn’t believe, he won’t stop until he’s done what he says he will and he’ll never give up on his guys. He’s the best man I know, Peggy, and it can’t be his fault he grew into it scrapping for our lives. Phillips already knows we’re goddamn lucky to have him- if you can’t see that I guess that’s not his fault either.”

Agent Barnes stared her colleague down unflinchingly; it was Peggy who looked away first.

“I’m sorry.”

Of course that was all it took- Stephanie’s forgiving smile was immediate, and entirely genuine.

“It’s okay. Just ease up on my best guy, huh? I know he’s not what you’re used to, but he’s everything I am, Peggy. You like me fine, don’t you?”

“He’s not all bad,” Peggy allowed a little grudgingly.

“He did punch that Senator satisfyingly hard.”

“Better,” Howard said approvingly, handing her a scotch.

“Sure you don’t want one, Mrs. Lt. Barnes?”

She didn’t- of course she didn’t. She just wanted to go to bed, she said not quite plaintivley. Howard nodded, his dark eyes wary.

“Sure. Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“Howard, sweetheart. I told Barnes I’d look out for you, didn’t I?”

He had. Bucky had snorted and said it was much more likely Steph would look out for Howard, and the army should realise how lucky they were she was there to prevent him blowing them all sky-high. Steph smiled.

“Of course. Good night, Mr. Stark. Peggy.”

“Play nice,” Howard advised Peggy as soon as Steph was out of earshot, speaking with more than typical gravity.

“Three months is a long damn time to be without your best guy.”

“Howard, Arthur and I-“

“You and Arthur didn’t grow up in each other’s pockets. You know the longest they’ve ever been apart is six weeks? Not since they’ve been going together- he doesn’t seem to know when that was, actually, can you imagine?- but since they were born, Peg. Cut the kid some slack, okay?”


	4. 1944 a different way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a different way for them to talk to each other after Steph, Howard and Peggy bust everyone out of the HYDRA base

“Does any part of that outfit belong to you?”

“I think the socks are mine? Might be yours, I dunno.”

“Go figure. It looks good on you, Agent Steph.”

Bucky obviously meant it, and he was looking at Steph with exactly the kind of affectionate pride he always had, but there was a lingering darkness in the beloved gaze which she found unsettling.

“You’d tell me if you weren’t okay, right?”

“I love you,” her husband said, which didn’t seem like any kind of answer until he pulled her closer, dropped his head onto her shoulder and stayed there. She knew he was concentrating on her face, but he didn't say a word until Stephanie nudged him gently. 

“What, J?”

“You’re so pretty, Stephie.”

She laughed just like she had the first time he’d said it, as though she was happily surprised he thought so, but there was no trace of teenage shyness in the lips that covered his, assured of their welcome, or in the hands that were already tugging impatiently at his shirt. Bucky grinned as they separated briefly so he could shrug it off.  

“Right this second, huh?”

“This is the US Army, James, we’re supposed to be efficient.”

It was hard to argue with that, Bucky thought. He kissed her hard, fierce and possessive, sliding his hands under her shirt and up her back to work on the stays of her-

“What the hell is this thing, even?”

Stephanie laughed against his jaw.

“Corselet. Peggy made me get it; British army thinks it’s the most appropriate underclothing for women in uniform.”

“Is it?”

She shrugged.

“I only know what Peggy says. Who would I ask, Howard Stark?”

“I hope not,” Bucky glared, but not very hard. He returned his attention to her mouth with renewed determination. Whether appropriately attired for combat or not- though most likely not considering her shirt hit the floor long before Bucky figured out the corselet- Steph put up gratifyingly little resistance to the Barnes offensive of 1944.

Agent Carter, glancing in on them at a fortituously early stage of that campaign, rolled her eyes and closed the door firmly behind her.

“They’re looking after each other,” she said shortly when Philips asked if she knew how Barnes and Barnes were recovering.

“I’ll just bet they are,” Gabe Jones muttered. The Commandos beamed with something quite like pride.

 


	5. later still in 1944

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is the party to which Schmidt accepts an invitation I never mention again (oops)

 

“I really thought you’d go for this,” Howard said.

“You know, dressing up for a dance on someone else’s dime.”

“Sure, a chara. You hire a band, we’ll be there with bells on. We are not going to the SS's summer do.”

Peggy ennumerated the advantages, both strategic and personal, of doing just that; Captain Barnes’s belligerent look grew increasingly fixed.

“We’re not doing this. Tell them to send your Europeans in or something, Agent C. What am I, the Scarlet Pimpernel?”

Falsworth snorted loudly, but both Steph and Peggy looked curious.

“What do you know about the European team?”

“Nothing, Carter, I just assumed- hoped and prayed, even- that the SSR wasn’t trying to take HYDRA down with just eight people and Howard Stark. You must have other guys, right? Who, you know, speak German and look German and already know German dances?”

Howard looked like he was enjoying the argument immensely.

“Are they even allowed to refuse?”

 “Captain’s discretion,” Peggy admitted reluctantly, glancing towards the captain’s wife in a silent plea for help. Stephanie just raised an eyebrow.

“He’s the Captain, we go where he goes. Though I would have counted Howard Stark as a person.”

The others nodded, Howard especially vigorously. Peggy sighed.

“You absolutely won’t do it?”

Bucky ran a hand through his hair in that gesture of frustration the others knew too well.

“Unless anyone here is dying to go-” Falsworth twitched a bit but said nothing- “I’m sorry, it’s all wrong. We can go to Vienna- we’ll do every kind of recon from outside if it will help, but we’re not setting one foot in there.”

“You just don’t want your wife to dance with Adolf Hitler,” Howard grumbled as if that was in any way unreasonable; all this did was solidify everyone else’s resolve to support their Captain’s choice.

As soon as it became clear that neither Barnes nor anyone else on his team was going to relent, Peggy threw her hands up in exasperation and went off to confer with whoever it was she conferred with when they weren’t allowed to know about it. Steph cocked her head as she surveyed her husband with particular attention.

“You’re a _little_ like the Scarlet Pimpernel, you know- you’ve already done the prison breaks with the taunting messages. And you have your knife.”

“I don’t think a switchblade’s the same as a sword, a chroí.”

“I bet you’d be very handsome in a cravat.”

When Falsworth disappeared without a word, almost certainly to get one so that Stephanie could find out, Bucky burst out laughing. He didn’t stop until there were tears running down his face.  

“They want us to learn the waltz,” he wheezed.

“Who’s driving this crazy train? Adolf still wants to kill everyone who doesn’t remind him of his mam, Johann still has who-even-knows-Zola’s-other-names building some kind of doomsday machine, and what does the US Army say? Why don’t you guys take a couple weeks off to learn the waltz. Because of course if Jones and Morita can do a box step real nice they’ll be exactly the same as everybody else in Vienna.”

By this time, even Dernier was chuckling.

“Russian aristocrats,” the captain growled. “Stephanie, we don’t even speak Russian.”


	6. another just-before-the-end (1945) that went a different way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> early draft had Steph falling halfway out of that train and Bucky being the one freaking out about letting her go back into action; here is a skeleton of how that argument-conversation thing just before the last fight might have gone if they'd been taking opposite sides.

 “Christ, woman, will ye not obey your husband just once in your life?”

They both froze. Under other circumstances Steph probably would have laughed: this visceral anger-born-of-fear apparently came from so deep a place that it brought out the vestigal Dubliner in Winifred’s son, and suddenly Bucky sounded more like Joseph Rogers than anyone Steph had heard in years. Instead of laughing, though, she reached out a tentative hand, touching her husband’s suddenly pale cheek and sighing sympathetically when he flinched minutely.

“Hey,” she said quietly. “Spooked yourself there, huh.”

“I’m sorry,” he barely whispered, shoulders stiff.

“I’m so sorry.”

He turned to meet her eye, and she realised he was more than spooked.

“Steph, a ghrá, you know I’d never-“

Understanding dawned.

“Bucky, of course I know that.”

“My mam said I’d hurt you in the end.”

And she remembered that, of course she did, as well as his quiet devastation at the very possibility. It had been years since Steph had thought about it, but of course Bucky would never have shaken that fear.

“If she really thought that she didn’t know you at all, Bucky. You’re allowed to make mistakes, okay? And you’re allowed to get mad. This is important, it’s not like fighting about what to wear to church. I know as well as you do one or both of us could die.”

“Steph-“

“I know, alright? I do. But it’s not only your call, Captain. Mo ghrá thú, James Barnes, but you won’t tell me to stay home and mind the fire while the men go out to finish what I started with you.”

“No,” he admitted, his voice as distant as his eyes were intense.

“I won’t. Of course you have to come. I just wish I could protect you, you know?"

“I think you’re supposed to want to look out for your wife.”

“Stephanie Rogers, all I’ve ever wanted is to look out for you.”


	7. New Year's Eve, 1940

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gary Richards is a good friend, Bucky is more high-maintenance than he means to be, and Steph is adored by everyone.

"I’m going to marry her, you know."

Sarah Miller laughed, reaching across the bar to pat Bucky's good hand.

"Even people you’ve never met know that, a leanbh."

The young man shook his head, fierce even in his bone-deep fatigue.

"Not in ’42. Now. Well, soon. Maybe this month, if she'll have me."

Bucky's best friend slammed his pint glass down with a grin, ignoring Mrs. Miller's glare of reproach.

"Of course she'll have you. Good for you, Buck. Good for Steph, too."

"Too late to kiss up now, Richards!"

Sarah's son Jack appeared with a bowl of crushed ice, gloating unrepentantly.

"I called best man when this one and the missus were, what, eight? If you’re a real pal maybe I'll let you be my assistant."

His easy smile dimmed a little as he looked over at the groom.

"You want I should take this up? Hannah will stay for sure if you need a minute."

He shook his head, as they had all known he would.

"No, I’m coming. Thanks, Sarah. Gary."

When they were alone, Gary voiced the fear that tormented all Bucky's closest friends on nights like this.

"What the hell are we going to do if she doesn’t make it?"

"Hush your mouth, Gary Richards. Of course she’ll make it. That girl's a fighter."

She was, especially for Bucky, but the words sounded hollow to both of them. Jack and Hannah appeared a few minutes later, reporting no change and going back to work with a subdued diligence that said more than any amount of screaming or crying. 

About an hour after the countdown, having seen to the last of the heavy lifting with Jack, Gary said good night to the Millers and headed up to look in on Steph and Bucky before he turned in. He found Steph asleep in her bed, which made sense; her fiancé was out for the count with his back against the nightstand and his head very nearly sharing her pillow. The bowl of ice-chips, nearly all water by now, was within arm's reach like the poor sap had resolved to make sure his girl never lacked for water, even if he ended up closer to dead than to asleep in the process.

"No," Gary growled, "This is too wet even for you. Get up, you punk. For god’s sake, it’s not living in sin if you’re both unconscious. Stupid kid, you want a broken neck to go with that goddamn arm?" 

He more or less hauled Bucky into bed, grumbling all the way but meaning none of it. Because he was the right kind of friend, he even yanked the idiot’s shoes off and left them neatly at the foot of the bed. Gary was pretty sure the jerk hadn’t even opened his eyes, but Bucky settled around his girl with a contented sigh. 

"Thanks, Gary."

Gary jerked in surprise, not having considered the possibility that Steph might wake up. He flashed the Richards grin that usually made her roll her eyes and accuse him of looking like a crime boss when he was trying to be charming.

"Happy New Year, Steph Rogers." 

"You too," she rasped. "1941, huh." 

Bucky murmured an indistinct question against her neck but quieted when Steph laid a gentle hand on the arm that had already found its way around her. Gary shook his head with a grin. 

"Knows your touch, huh? God, he’s like an infant."

Steph smiled; Gary poured a glass of water from the pitcher on her dresser and set it on the nightstand for lack of anything else to do with his hands. 

"I know what he's like," he said by way of explanation, meaning the way Bucky tended to forget to eat or drink or talk to other people when he was worried about his girl; Steph rolled her eyes in agreement. Gary wasn't sure she realised she was still stroking Bucky's arm, a slow, soothing motion that looked like it was keeping both of them calm. 

"You get better, Stephie, you hear me? This is gonna be a good year for you." 

She looked curious, but nodded solemnly instead of demanding to know what he meant. Seeing that the poor girl would be asleep again within the next minute, Gary crossed over to the bed so he could kiss her cheek and grumble a bit more about Bucky instead of saying good night in so many words. He pulled the door to Stephanie's bedroom shut behind him, offering a quick prayer as he did that they'd all be there come morning to see each other through another day.


	8. late summer, 1937

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> not long enough after that awful accident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because Tasha has to deal with logistics and Loki is a nutcase so everything is taking longer than I mean it to but lo, apparently I have a lot of written-up backstory from back in the day! have some.

“I know I have no right to ask you, but-“

“You have every right, you idiot, but you don’t have to ask. Leave you? Bucky, where the hell would I go?”

He was still frowning, an uncertainty Steph had never seen before lurking in his pained eyes.

“I should let you find out. How’m I gonna look after you when I can’t damn well do anything, Steph?”

Anger and frustration Steph could understand; it was the exhausted helplessness in his tone that made her heart ache. She reached for her fiance’s good hand, meeting his eyes as she pressed it between both of hers. 

“You’re making yourself crazy over nothing. Hang onto me, all right? Don’t let go. That’s all I need you to do just now. We’ll take the rest as it comes.”

Bucky subsided, more because he didn’t have the energy to argue than because he agreed with her. “You know you nearly _died_ , right?”

He watched her quietly, not denying it but not seeming to understand what that had to do with anything.

“Jack came running in, ‘accident at the docks, three guys dead, I need to borrow Steph.’ Bucky, I really thought you were-”

She couldn’t say it out loud a second time. Her eyes were already red and swollen, but not so much that they couldn’t begin to sting all over again with fresh tears.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said fiercely. “And neither are you, you hear me?”

Her chest was heaving already, and Steph knew from the way Bucky’s hand clenched around one of hers that he thought she was going to talk her way into an asthma attack, so she mustered up something like a smile to show him that she’d be okay.

“I don’t care where we end up or what we have to do,” she insisted in a milder voice. “As long as we do it together I’m all in, okay? All the way, Bucky, no matter what.”

“All the way,” he murmured, an almost automatic confirmation. For a long time neither of them said anything. They sat quietly, their hands still joined, his tired eyes intent on her drawn face. Neither of them acknowledged the arm he’d never use again, or the fact that it had been days since they’d last spoken because he’d been _unconscious and maybe dying_ all that while. “I don’t know how to deserve you, Steph Rogers.”

If she hadn’t been so goddamn tired Steph probably would have laughed in his face.

“It doesn’t work that way. You don’t have to earn this, J. It’s... just a gift, okay? Freely given. No conditions.”

“Are you?”

Bucky looked inordinately pleased by that thought. “You’re a good gift, Stephie. Real good. Best present I ever got. I’m still going to marry you, though, okay? Then you’ll be even more mine. Look upon my Steph, ye suckers, and despair. No one else is ever gonna find one good as you.”

Stephanie fought back a giggle that would probably hurt his feelings.

“I think the morphine’s kicking in.”

Bucky nodded agreeably, but then his smile faltered and he fixed her with an earnest, even anxious look.

“I think yours is broken. Your no conditions gift. You _sure_ you don’t want to get a different one?”

“What’re you talking about? There’s nothing wrong with it.”

She leaned down to kiss his still-creasing brow. “It’s perfect just like this, all right? I love it, and I love you, ridiculous boy.”

Somehow, of all the things they’d talked about, Bucky seemed to find this easiest to accept. Slowly, he withdrew his hand from hers and raised it, very carefully, to her face.

“Steph,” he murmured a little thickly, brushing her hair back with adorable focus. “A ghrá geal.”

His eyes closed before he could see her flush at this new and unexpected endearment. Wondering if he’d remember when he woke, Steph decided she'd have no choice but to remind him if he didn’t.

“A thaisce,” she whispered- not new, and not particularly romantic, but truer than any other truth she knew, except maybe one. “A chéadsearc.”


	9. 1925, maybe mid-May

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is one of the first things I ever scripted, and features 5-year-old Steph waaaay before babySteph was a thing I spent time thinking about.

“Uncle Joe?”

Joe Rogers grinned at the young man hovering by the door to his and Sarah's bedroom. 

“Hiya, James B. Where’s Stephanie?”

“Kitchen. She’s drawing a duck. Can I ask you something? It’s important.”

“Of course. What is it, lad?”

“When we grow up, can I marry Stephie?”

That was not, at all, the question Joe had been expecting.

“Well now, I don’t know as I can-“

Joe stopped speaking as he realised that Bucky’s eyes were filling with tears.

“I’m sorry,” the little boy said sadly.

“I know she’s special. ’s okay, I’ll find someone else.”

“Stop right there, young man.”

Joe gathered Bucky into a loose embrace, hiding a smile when his daughter's apparent suitor turned his face away in adorable little-boy resentment.

“Listen to me, lad. You’re plenty special too, and Stephanie knows that. I only meant you’ll have to ask her yourself, son, she’s not mine to give away. If you still want to marry her when you’re old enough, and she wants to marry you, of course you’ll have my blessing.”

“Oh!”

Bucky grinned broadly, all traces of doubt clearing from his face.

“That’s okay, then. Thanks, Uncle Joe!”

He hugged Joe tightly then slipped out of his embrace; Bucky was halfway out the door when he looked back in.

“I asked her already, she said yes last week but Gary said it’s not for real until the girl’s da says yes.”  

Joe managed to keep his face neutral until he heard Steph’s dismissive “'Course he said yes! I’da cried if he didn’t,” then he laughed so hard that the children came to check on him. They were mystified but not displeased when he pulled them both into a massive hug, congratulated them solemnly on their engagement, and announced that they were going to the park. Stephanie looked at him askance when he even got them an ice cream to share, but she was hardly likely to complain about unexpected treats. Joe’s future son-in-law divided his time between showing Steph the various ace things he thought she needed to see and shooting secret, grateful looks at her father.

Joe watched them sitting by the lake, Bucky leaning close to watch Steph draw. Whatever he said made her laugh as she turned to face him, tipping her head back in childish glee, and Joe could not fail to notice the pride in the little boy’s eyes.


	10. late January, 1941

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some of the reasoning behind Bucky's continuing failure to call his wife by her actual married name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, I have a lot!!! of Jack and Gary in little snippets. one day possibly I'll sort all the Middagh prequels into a separate thing from the wartime outtakes? hmm.

Stephanie Rogers was perched on one of the high stools along the bar, periodically glancing up from the sketch she was working on to smile fondly at her fiancé. Her real, official, fiancé, who would be her husband not in a year and a half, like they had expected for the longest time, but in a matter of weeks.

“Hey there. James Barnes. Most people call me Bucky though. Unless I’m much mistaken we're gettin' married in March.”

She blinked at the bartender uncomprehendingly, making Bucky laugh as he set down the milky tea she hadn’t ordered.

“You’re starin’ like you wish you could remember how we know each other. Thought I’d better remind you.”

“Thanks,” she drawled, but reached across to kiss him anyway.

“Steph, you know when we get married, right.”

She nodded, curious rather than teasing because he sounded very serious.

“Are you sure you wanna change your name?”

“What? Of course I do. Do you _not_ want me to change my name?”

Bucky tangled their hands together in unspoken reassurance.

“All our Rogers people are much better than the only Barnes we know anything about, is all.”

“George Barnes,” Stephanie hissed.

“How that man can still bring you down when he ain’t even shown his face in twenty years. I swear to god, Buck, if I ever meet him I’m gonna-”

“Set fire to his hair?”

Jack and Gary blew in with a gust of freezing air, drawing a shudder from Steph which in turn resulted in a reproachful glare from Bucky. Gary, of course, was referring to Steph’s favourite threat, issued whenever he and Bucky got up to something she thought was reckless, ridiculous, or both. They heard that threat a _lot._

“Set fire to his ass, maybe.”

The sheer unexpectedness of it shocked a laugh out of her audience. Bucky looked mortified, but also deeply touched.

“You make strange vows for me, a chroí.”

“Yeah, well, when I make the next one I’m comin’ away Mrs. Barnes or there’s no deal, okay?”

Bucky’s friends, of course, demanded a full explanation for why Steph expected anything else. Because it was Jack and Gary, there was no reason not to tell them; both thought it over for a moment.

“You could take her name,” Gary offered.

“No,” Jack said before Steph or Bucky could react.

“Sorry, Richards, our boy definitely can’t be a Rogers.”

Jack knew Steph had figured it out when she started giggling. She patted Bucky’s cheek to soothe the hurt that edged his mostly-joking pout.

“Not because you don’t deserve it, idiot. It’s just, if you did you’d be Buck Rogers.”

Gary, catching on, burst out laughing with such abandoned glee that the few regulars already nursing a drink in the late afternoon cast baleful looks towards the bright-eyed, handsome boy with his whole life ahead of him. Bucky turned to Stephanie with huge, pleading eyes.

“Pleeeease,” he whined.

“Let me be Buck Rogers, doll. I promise I won’t fall asleep and wake up in the future without you.”

Gary wanted to make sure they knew what Stephanie was agreeing to before any decisions were made.

“Does that mean you won’t wake up in the future, or that she has to wake up in the future with you?”

Jack argued for the former; Bucky said he wouldn’t mind the latter.  

“It doesn’t matter,” Steph insisted before the boys ended up spending the next two hours imagining the future no one would be waking up in. She grabbed Bucky’s good hand firmly to get his attention, but also to show that she was in earnest.

“Of course I’m gonna take your name, Bucky Barnes. Because it’s _yours_ , J. You think I care what jackass had it before?”

She smiled sweetly as his face changed; apparently he had not thought to count himself as a Barnes of which they knew.

“I like all your names, James Bucky Buchanan Francis Barnes, even if there are too many of them. Don’t call me doll, it makes you sound like a crime boss.”

“Two of those are the same,” Jack pointed out.

“Maybe you should take all of them. Stephanie Maire Bernadette James Buchanan Francis Barnes. If anyone tries to arrest you you’ll be in the next state before they get through saying all that.”

“I don’t think they’d say their confirmation names,” Gary objected.

“And why are they getting arrested after their wedding?”

“I dunno. They might take him in for being a crime boss after he calls her ‘doll,’ or George will turn up at their wedding and she’ll have to set fire to him.”

“To his ass,” Steph reminded them.

“They wouldn’t arrest me for that, though. I’d probably get a medal.”

“You should get a medal anyway,” Bucky beamed.

“Best in Brooklyn.”

“That sounds like a prize at a dog show,” Steph complained.

“Best what, anyway?”

“Arsonist and possible gangster’s moll,” Gary summarised. Bucky, of course, shook his head decisively.

“Best _everything,_ Steph Rogers.”

“I dunno,” said Hannah, coming up behind Bucky with freshly washed glasses.

“You’re probably more qualified to win an award for ‘Best Everything Steph Rogers.’ This one’ll get ‘Best Anything Bucky Barnes'- she’s much better at keeping you alive than you are.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

Jack and Gary clinked their glasses together while Steph and Bucky conferred on whether they were pleased or insulted by this assessment.


	11. 1942

"I fold," Bucky declared without ceremony. He'd left the table before most of Millie's friends realised what had taken practically the last remaining guy they knew from perfectly relaxed to ashen-faced in the space of a second. There was a collective intake of breath as they found the cause of Bucky's sudden switch, then Anna Conroy sighed, just shy of enviously.

"How does he always know?"

"Black magic," Millie snarled, wishing everyone would just leave the unhappy couple across the bar alone.

"Her pain makes his brain itch. Godsake, give them some privacy. I won’t believe none of you jerks’s ever seen a gal cry before."

That, however, was precisely the reason everyone was transfixed: it wasn’t just some gal in floods of tears- it was Bucky’s gal. Stephanie Barnes was a little wisp of a girl, sure, but she wasn't fragile. Maybe she was sick more often than not, but even in her frailty she was steady as a rock. This had been true since they were kids, everyone who knew her swore, but most of Bucky's friends thought primarily of the accident that had almost killed him. People had been sure the couple would come to grief- Bucky himself, by some accounts, had thought Steph would be better off without him- but Miss Rogers herself had known what she wanted, and everyone with half a clue had known that any such deal would include James Barnes or nothin' doin'. And she had that now, didn't she- the poor sucker couldn't have been more gone for the girl if she'd been some kind of sorceress even before they'd got hitched- so maybe it was no wonder Steph was the very soul of happiness most of the time.

Not so today, however: Stephanie still hadn't stopped sobbing. Her cheek was pressed into her husband's shoulder, one hand so tightly fisted in his jacket that she was probably losing feeling in her fingers. Bucky hadn't said anything, as far as they could tell- quite possibly he had enough to do keeping them both upright. Anna glanced at Millie, openly curious.

"Do you know what this is about?"

Millie shrugged. These days it could be anything- but Hannah was fine, so it wasn't Jack, and Steph didn't really have any other family to speak of. She did know Steph had gone to see a doctor, which was nothing special except that this was some kind of specialist, at the hospital, and Bucky hadn't gone with her. That meant female troubles, probably- but Millie wasn't about to go sharing that sort of information with Anna Conroy. She heaved a quick, relieved sigh when Sarah Miller caught sight of her favourite kids in Brooklyn Heights and ushered them both into the kitchen with the same combination of motherly concern and military-grade insistence that had also kept Gary in darned socks throughout his teenage years and stopped Millie herself from dropping out of nursing school every time she had to stay on past 6 in the afternoon. 

"Mind your own," she snapped at Anna. 

"Is someone gonna deal or are we done here? Buncha nosy parkers, it's a damn shame when four grown gals can't even play cards without a guy to show us the way." 

* * *

"Hush," Bucky pleaded, rubbing his wife's back while she clung to him. They were on their own now, at least- Steph hated making a scene way more than getting upset in the first place.

"You're gonna make yourself sick, Stephie."

The tiniest flicker of a smile crossed her face at the nickname he almost never used anymore, but then Steph's all-consuming misery swallowed it up completely. Her eyes dropped as her shoulders drooped, but she didn't try to pull away. 

"I'm so sorry, Bucky."

"Don't know why. It's not on you, a chroí."

Steph glowered- not at him, exactly, but it felt like it.

"Who, then?"

How could anyone answer that? Bucky used the hand in his wife's hair to urge her just a little closer. Stephanie leaned in before he did, so Bucky didn't have to feel guilty about wanting to kiss her while she was still so upset. 

"Don't care. Not you."

Stephanie huffed, exasperated, but let him press his lips to hers. She was shivering again, but with her it could be hard to tell why, exactly, without asking. 

"You cold, honey?" 

She wasn't. Tired, she thought, maybe. 

"But you're okay. Apart from that, I mean."

Bucky smiled when Stephanie nodded.

"That's good, at least. Are you sure you don't want tea or something?"

It might have been a concession meant just to reward his patience, but Steph condescended to let Bucky fix her something warm and sweet before they headed back upstairs.

"That's better," her husband murmured when she took her first sip. Steph thought it would have been better if they weren't already married. If they'd known before he could have made an informed choice, then maybe she wouldn't feel so much like she'd pulled a fast one on him without even meaning to. 

"You should be a daddy, though."

He'd be so good at it, she thought; in two seconds she was crying all over again.

"Aw, Steph."

"I'm-"

"No more of that," Bucky insisted, much more gently than Steph thought she deserved for bringing all this down on him without any warning at all. When she had put her arms around his shoulders, Bucky let go of her waist so he could cup her cheek, giving her little choice about meeting his eyes. 

"You're sorry. I get it. But you don't have to be, okay? It will happen if it happens, Steph. 'He writes straight with crooked lines' and all that."

Steph had heard that last part more times than she could count- Bucky was quoting one of his mother's all-time favourite sayings.

"I know," she confessed, because she did when she wasn't mourning the hopes for the future that had felt like promises when they'd shared them. 

"It's just- you deserve better, J." 

"Not possible," Bucky said lightly, but with that lingering warmth that Steph sometimes thought had been keeping her sane since before she'd learnt to recognise it. 

"There's nothing on God's earth that's better for me than you, Steph Rogers."

She nudged him gently, smiling through her tears. 

"Not anymore, you know." 

He grinned at that- still a little surprised, and heartbreakingly pleased, after more than a year. 

"There are hundreds of kids who could be ours, Stephanín."

He sounded nervous; that was odd.

"What's-" 

Odder still, he spoke right over her instead of waiting for Steph to finish.

"It's not that hard to adopt in New York. We can make the cash grade by ’44 if we’re careful, probably, but maybe it doesn’t have to be right away? And I can talk to Hen about doing different work if we need a little extra, you know he still thinks he owes me."

Steph would have choked up at the hope in her husband's eyes if she hadn't been well past that already. 

"You’ve thought about this," she realised. "A lot."

Bucky still looked a little uncomfortable, but he grinned at her.

"I’ve thought about lots of things a lot where our family is concerned."

"Family," she echoed, trying not to think about a boy with his father's stubborn chin, a dark-haired girl who would look just like her grandmother if she got Steph's eyes. 

"Yeah."

Bucky had always been able to follow her thoughts with uncanny accuracy. 

"If this is it- if it's just you and me from here on out? That's fine. That's perfect. You’re what I’m sure of, okay? Just stay with me- the rest is extra. I know you know that."

She did, because she'd been the one who had told him that. This time, Steph found it hurt a lot less to smile without faking it.

"All in all the way, you mean?" 

Bucky kissed her like he couldn't help it- not like making a point, or giving one or both of them a break from something else, but like it was the only thing he could do that made any kind of sense. It was as convincing an affirmation as any Steph had ever even heard of.


	12. early 1945

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't even really remember writing these bookends to the chapter in which Bucky&Co. finally have to deal with Schmidt, but I found them and I like them (because, I dunno, I just love Howard, okay?) so here they are.

_“That’s_ the guy who has you and Phillips both spooked? I thought he’d be-“

“Taller?”

“Scary. He looks like Millie’s Uncle Martin.”

“I’m pretty sure Millie’s Uncle Martin has never shot a kid at point-blank range for no goddamn reason.“

Bucky certainly looked like he found Schmidt plenty disturbing. His complexion was a little waxy, his cheeks flushed with anger, and his mouth was a tight, unforgiving line as watched his mark with single-minded focus. When she saw him twitch and clench his jaw, Steph hooked an ankle over one of Bucky’s in the most spectacularly unprofessional manner imaginable for a sniper on active duty.

“Cool it, Captain. He’s the only one who can answer some of Phillips’ questions.”

Bucky sighed deeply, but continued watching Schmidt talk to some high-ranking Nazi or another.

* * *

“That’s really goddamn disappointing,”Howard grumbled, refilling Bucky’s shotglass even though he’d already called the Captain a ‘goddamn waste of good whisky’ twice.

“I always assumed it was some kind of metaphor- Red Skull, death to communists, or something. Plus now we know why HYDRA has a skull for its head, huh. Who knew Nazis could be so literal?”

“As long as he doesn’t grow extra limbs when you cut him.” 

Bucky knocked back the shot Howard had poured as his host grinned.

“That’s easy, ace: don’t cut him. Shoot him in the head.”

“I wanted to do that last week, only Steph wouldn’t let me.”

“Your wife can be so unreasonable,” Howard said commiseratingly.  Suddenly, the look in his eyes turned serious, almost fatherly in its concern.

“Are you sure you’re up to this next thing? Peggy reckons they could send the Britishers in if you-“

“Naw, my guys are getting restless as it is.”

“You sure? You and Zola are not a mix I want to think about.”

Bucky smiled, not least because he was pretty sure Howard would have volunteered to sit through Senator Brandt's briefing on the defense budget before he tried to get almost any other person to talk about his feelings. 

"I'm okay," he promised. 

"Steph'll shoot him if he tries anything." 

Not that it would come to that, in any case- they weren't even going to be out there all that long. 

"It's just up to the border, anyway. What's the worst that can happen on a train?"


End file.
